Page:Canadian poems of the great war.djvu/242

 Archibald Sullivan

The youngest son of the late Bishop of Algoma (Anglican), the Right Reverend Edward Sullivan. Of Irish-Scotch descent. Born in Sault Ste. Marie. Educated at Upper Canada College, Toronto, and at Loretto, a school for boys in Musselburgh, Scotland. By profession an author. Lived for ten years in London, England, contributing to several of the leading magazines. Since his return has lived and followed his profession in New York.

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��THE PLAINT OF THE CHILDREN

HAT have we done ?

Lifted a little laughter to the sun,

Played where the brooks like silver truants run,

Kneeled the good God at twilight one by one.

What has our childish world of little things To do with Princes, Emperors and Kings? We know the flowers are dead and no bird sings What have we done?

Oh, by the pleading of our little hands, Lifted above the turmoil of these lands, God of the wretched God who understands What have we done?

Nothing but breathe the beauty of Your air Till dust and turmoil set Your sky aflare. Now there is nothing no one anywhere What have we done?

Pain travels quickly. We are tired and small, And Hunger crouches by each shattered wall; Death is our playmate He will end it all. What have we done?

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